Diplomatic? Yes Immunity? No
by Elf With Redbull
Summary: This is a typical bad luck run in with orcs story, but everybody needs to have at least one of these. Anyways...The Mirkwood royal family is heading to Imladris for a diplomatic visit, but are delayed by a troop of orcs out for vengeance. Will they make it to Imladris in one piece?
1. Chapter 1

Diplomatic? Yes. Immunity? No.

Summary: This is a typical bad luck run in with orcs story, but everybody needs to have at least one of these. Anyways...The Mirkwood royal family is heading to Imladris for a diplomatic visit, but are delayed by a troop of orcs out for vengeance. Will they make it to Imladris in one piece?

Info: Yep I'm back from mini hiatus and and updating this biweekly. Am aiming for 7k words...but that can always change.

Characters: For some of these, I'm not even going to waste my time on.

Brinduíl: One of the two of Thranduil's advisors and the highest ranking Captain of Mirkwood (Just to get this straight: Captain is ranked BELOW Marchwarden!). Has light brown hair and brown eyes. AKA the same looks as half of the other elves in Mirkwood.

Elrond: Not wasting time.

Erestor: Not wasting time.

Glorfindel: Not wasting time.

Kelsil: Legolas' sister and therefore Crowned Princess of Mirkwood. Has black hair and blue eyes. Age equivalent of 30ish. Likes pointy, sharp, dangerous, objects.

Legolas: Not wasting time. Age equivalent of 30ish.

Thranduil: Legolas' father who is NOT abusive and does NOT have grey eyes. He has blue.

* * *

All four elves let out an audible sigh of relief as they rode past the crossroads that marked the end of the pass across the Misty Mountains, and the end of a solid week of slow riding and terrible trails.

The leader of the party, none other than the Elven King, Thranduil, patted his snow colored horse on the side (who was snorting with restlessness and impatience after the slow ride), leaving the stallion free to go at any pace he wanted to.

"Glad that's over," he muttered, hoping for a short, uneventful, three days to the hidden valley of Imldris.

The three others followed suit and they were soon galloping though the trees, laughing and whooping as wind whipped their hair in all directions.

As they came to a small stream, they reigned their mounts and dismounted, giving both them and themselves a brief rest.

Legolas took a water skin from the small pack on his pale grey horse, leaving him at the stream between Brinduíl's chestnut colored mount and his sister's sleek black one and went to sit with his family and traveling companion on the grass under a large oak tree.

After taking a sip, he offered it to the others with raised eyebrows. After receiving no response, he sealed it and tossed it in the general direction of the horses to prevent loosing it...again. He was met with eight pairs of horse eyes glaring at him for disturbing their drink.

Legolas sighed and slumped back against the tree and contemplated slipping off into the world of elven dreams. The decision was made for him and he joined activities with his obviously tired father with the sound of whet stones on blades in the background.

They spent only spared half an hour for their stop and all too soon, Brinduíl stood up. "We should really get going," he announced, awakening both the sleeping King and his groggy son.

The other they groaned and stood up, mumbling a few things along the lines of "food", "bed", "roof", and "wine".

"Three more days," Kelsil announced, not exacly sure if she was trying to reassure herself or her traveling companions, horses included.

The foursome walked over to the stream and refilled their water skins and rechecked the small amount of equipment strapped onto their mounts bare backs. They remounted with Thranduil riding point and with Kelsil bringing up the rearguard. One could never be too careful in these times.

After a few uneventful hours of idle talk and complaints about the roads, Thranduil suddenly reigned his mount and held up his hand.

"Daro."

The three others shot him a questioning look.

"Yrch!"

No further explanation was needed and the four dismounted, silently drawing their weapons.

* * *

[Sorry for the shortie, but hey! I did it.

Elvish:

Daro- Stop

Yrch- Orcs

Like it? Love it! Can't believe you read it? Please review!

-Vassi]


	2. Chapter 2

[Well, here we go! Enjoy...and review...]

* * *

"Yrch."

Thranduil's soft warning hung in the air as all four Mirkwood elves dismounted and drew their weapons.

Using hand signals, Brinduíl gestured for them to take to the trees. It would at least provide them with some cover. The horses seemed to understand and turned away from their masters and trotted down the trail, not daring to go any faster with the need for absolute silence. They had seen battle before and knew that their services might be necessary for more than just riding.

Just as the warriors had scaled the trees, a band of easily 40 orcs tromped into the area they had just been riding through minutes earlier. They appeared not to notice the elves' presence, but the hope of not being noticed was crushed as the obvious leader of the group called an abrupt halt.

"I smell elf filth!" he announced as the scanned the area for any of the creatures that the orcs despised the most.

All hell then broke loose. Legolas drew and aimed his arrow in one fluid motion, and released it, ending with the captain promptly falling to the ground with the offending projectile sticking out of his chest. The enraged orcs let out a cry and readied their clumsy bows and began to blindly shoot into the trees.

This was answered with several volleys of arrows from the hidden elves, ending with 8 of the orcs dropping dead to join the captain on the ground. Although this move decreased the number of opponents, the orcs weren't shooting blindly anymore. They had found the general directions in which the arrows had originated from and began to concentrate their aim there.

Even though orcs were by no means good shots, the sheer numbers of the arrows made up for the inaccuracy.

Thranduil was forced to dodge one arrow and then another while trying to get a decent shot on any one of their enemy, but it was almost hopeless. Every time he moved, the orcs would further lock onto his position, making him an easier target, not to mention the fact that he was being bombarded with projectiles that were most likely poisoned.

Six yards to his left, Legolas wasn't faring much better. He faced the same problems, but had gotten at least two shots off. Despite his near legendary skill with a bow, he had only severely injured the two targets, not killed them.

Both the princess and Captain had already given up the loosing battle and had slung their bows oven their backs and had unsheathed their knives and in Brinduíls case, sword, and were preparing to jump down to join the fray. Both glanced at Thranduil for approval. He nodded although he was shooting them a glare that said clearly that if they didn't stop asking permission to do everything, it wasn't the orcs that they would have to worry about trying to kill them.

Both Brinduíl and Kelsil dropped from the tree and landed in a crouch just outside the first 'lines' of orcs, drawing some of their attention always from Thranduil and Legolas who were still trying to cover them from above.

Kelsil advanced her position with Brinduil guarding her back and vice versa, with full intention to engage in combat with the vile creatures. However she didn't have to wait long and was met almost immediately with three orcs with the intention to kill the 'elf filth'. Two of them were promptly relieved of their heads.

The third orc had raised its scimitar to return the favor, but it was blocked by a long, silver knife. An identical one came up and stabbed it in the chest.

At her back, Brinduíl arched his blade, parrying a poorly placed offensive from a clumsy assailant and opened his stance to decapitate it as well as to slit an unsusupecting orc's throat.

* * *

Thranduil soon gave up on dodging arrows and both he and Legolas decided that it was best to join the other two on the ground. Thranduil drew his sword and jumped out of the tree, landing silently on his feet. Several orcs turned and ran towards him, however more remained shooting at Legolas. He needed to clear a spot of at least some safety for him to land in, however a group of orcs chose then to run at him with their weapons raised. He swiftly killed one, and then another.

He paused as a soft grunt from above told him that an arrow had found it mark in the younger elf. The orcs saw this and rushed at him. Thranduil met the first strike easily and dodged another and proceeded to kill the first assailant. He retreated back to the space he was trying to hold and cut down (or off) anything that got in the way of his sword.

* * *

Legolas grunted as he felt an arrow hit his lower thigh. he swore and snapped the shaft off, flinging it to the ground. Although the arrow would make for an interesting landing, it only hastened his movements and added to his fury directed at the spawns of Morgoth.

Legolas lept from the tree, landing awkwardly, but still but still on his feet, in the small opening that his father had cleared.

He gave Thranduil a look that indicated that it was ok to stop holding the ground and stepped up with him to help plow down the number of orcs. Thranduil shot him back a concerned glance and Legolas swiftly added an "I'm fine" and went into kill everything in a 10 foot radius mode.

* * *

The skirmish had quickly gone from a semi organized battle to complete mayhem soon after the elves descended from the trees. Even though the elves made quite an effort to stay together, all four of them had been pushed apart by the sea of enemies and had to do double the work to protect their unguarded backs. They tried to make their way back towards any of the others, but the orcs had kept them effectively separated.

A few of the archers were still left with arrows and were trying to hit the nearest of the elves, but had little or no success. Out of pure luck, Brinduíl raised his arm into the path of one of the arrows, but just enough to get grazed. Frankly, it was barely considered a hit.

Kelsil was stabbing and parrying and using her elven speed and grace to the uppermost level, but still was struggling to fend off two particularly large orcs who had more skill than the others, along with decent blade that were probably stole from one of their victims. She barely blocked an attack that would surely cause some damage to her head and somehow held it while dodging an attack at her unprotected side.

She went back into a defensive position and spared a brief glance up to the rest of the battlefield to see what else was going on.

Thranduil was doing fine, sword flashing in the sunlight despite the orc blood that came almost up to the hilt. Brinduíl seemed to be doing ok, but she had seen him take a hard hit to the shoulder earlier and was visibly favoring it. Her brother seemed to be doing fine too and she focused her attention back to the two orcs attacking her.

She got in a strike over the top of the orc's metallic glove, awarding herself with a triumphant smirk at its growl of pain. Kelsil suddenly looked up on pure instinct and saw an orc creeping up onto Legolas' back.

She didn't have any time to knock her bow, so she did the only the she could. She put the hilt of her left hand blade in her mouth and grabbed a five inch throwing dagger out of her boot and shouted her brothers name, hoping that he would notice as she threw the dagger at the threat.

She had a look of satisfaction on her face as she saw it impact the weak spot in the orcs' armor that she had been aiming for. It stumbled forward and Legolas whirled around, by chance or by skill, one of his knives slitting it's throat as it fell to the ground.

She looked back to the orcs as she saw a flash of silver out of the corner of her eye. She barely saw the orc-sword coming, but whirled around and met the tip of it with her knife, redirecting it in an attempt to avoid being stabbed in the heart.

Kelsil stumbled backwards at the force of the blow and that was all the encouragement the orcs needed. They rushed forwards and one shoved the other out of the way in an attempt to get a kill. He thrust his blade forwards and Kelsil let out a yelp as it went through the side of her chest. This was the last thing the orc did with its head still attached.

* * *

[Evil laugh. I'm sorry, I didn't have much time to write this week and will probably be the same for the rest. I was trying to fit the whole fight scent into one chapter, but it looks like that isn't happening. Anyways I only proofread this once and will do it again later so bear with me!]


	3. Chapter 3 A

[Sorry I haven't been able to write for a while, but I had been busy with volleyball recently and had an all day tournament on Saturday. But aaaaanyways, I'm writing now.]

* * *

Thranduil grunted as he felt the impact of the scimitar on his back. It was a clumsy error that he would not live down for years. The orcs were loosing with only five of them left alive, however they definitely had put up a fight. A sixth that he had missed had snuck up on his back. He stabbed it with his sword. Now there were five left.

Brinduíl kicked one of the remaining in the groin, causing it pause it's efforts in trying to kill four specific elves. He lifted his dagger and slit it's throat, not having enough energy to do much else.

Brinduíl noted that Legolas was making quick work of one orc although he was only using one of his knives. The orc wouldn't last much longer.

One orc was standing in the middle of the war zone, trying to figure out who would be the funnest to attack. He turned towards Kelsil who was laying on her stomach on the ground. This concerned him greatly, but before he could move, she threw one of her long knives at it letting out some snide comments as it fell to the ground. Although some of his mind told him to help her, there were other things that needed taking care of. She would be fine for now.

He then changed his attention towards the remaining two. One was about to make the mistake that would cost his life, choosing to attack Legolas while Thranduil was in attacking distance...and watching. The other one was drawing his bow and aiming at the otherwise oblivious Thranduil. 'WAIT!' Brinduíl sprang into action summoning an amazing amount of energy from an unknown source diving at the archer. He tackled him but not before the orc released the arrow.

It squarely impacted the target's abdomen, however Thranduil didn't even notice. He gave the stupid orc the finger and used the last reserves of his energy to decapitate the moron who tried to attack his son. He allowed himself a small smile.

The last surviving orc was now having a half hearted wrestling match with the Captain who seemed to be prolonging the fight just so he could get in a few more punches on the scumbag who had waged war on the entire elvish (and for that matter men and dwarves too) race. Brinduíl threw another punch and noted with satisfaction that it caused a fair amount of blood to pour from the creature's newly broken nose. The orc however took this to his advantage and quickly struck back, hitting Brinduíl injured shoulder. This was all it took and Brinduíl to draw his knife and literally stab the orc in the back. 'It seems fitting really,' he thought to himself as he stood up, retrieving his knife from the orc.

Brinduíl went over to Thranduil who was standing there with a far away look now in his eyes.

"Thranduil!" Brinduíl shouted after he failed to acknowledge his presence.

"Hello," he said simply before his knees gave out.

* * *

[This is a two part chapter I decided and the rest will be on the next update. I'm sorry it's really jumpy and short and frankly I'm not very proud with it. So thank you for spending your five minutes reading this and your other two reviewing. *hint hint*]


	4. Chapter 3 B

[Yeah! An update! This is the second part to the last chapter...hoping for a double update-might be another tomorrow...]

* * *

Thranduil heard voices. Three of them. They were penetrating through the blackness, slowly drawing him back to consciousness.

He opened his eyes, but he was rewarded with a wave of nausea and a spinning image of three elves and the underside of trees. He quickly closed them.

"Adar?" one of the elves asked.

"Open your eyes."

As the wave of nausea settled, Thranduil forced his eyes open again.

"What happened?"

"You could say orcs happened." Brinduíl said with a shrug.

For the first time, he took note of his surroundings. He was on the ground in the middle of the forest. It certainly smelled like orcs, but he couldn't hear or see any. All of the elves standing above him were covered in orc blood and maybe a little bit of their own too. Both his back and stomach hurt like crap and it was obvious that there had been some kind of fight.

"Oh," he responded with a frown.

Seeing the look of confusion on his face, Brinduíl decided to fill him in. "Arrow," he said simply.

There was a grunt of understanding. Thranduil opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by Legolas.

"We're fine."

He regarded the three figures above him and quickly came to the conclusion that they obviously weren't. In Mirkwood, fine meant that you weren't going to die of blood loss in the next five minutes and *most* of your limbs were attached. But by the normal definition, the most certainly weren't 'fine'.

Thranduil rolled his eyes. These idiots were the ones that would get him killed someday. He struggled to sit up, but the combination of the pain, nausea, and Brinduíl's hand forced him back down.

"We have to get the arrow out, it might be poisoned," Brinduíl said with a worried tone.

Thranduil nodded. Brinduíl knelt, straddling him and gripped the shaft of the arrow. He looked at Thranduil.

"Just do it," he said through gritted teeth.

Brinduíl pulled, eliciting a gasp of pain from Thranduil.

"Varda! Does this ever get to a point where it hurts less!"

"Nope," responded Brinduíl to the younger elf below him.

Brinduíl ripped a strip off the bottom of his riding cloak and wrapped it around Thranduil's waist. He threw his cloak back on and examined the tip of the offending arrow. "Poison." he spat.

"Joy, can't this day get any better!" remarked Kelsil, discreetly leaning on a tree for support.

"Be quiet," Legolas said, staring intently into the forest.

"Wha-"

"Quiet!" Legolas hissed, glaring pointedly at his sister. After a minute his posture stiffened. "We must move. Leave the orcs. We can't wast time. We must get away fast. Call the horses."

Brinduíl did the Eyebrow™, but knew better than to question Legolas when he went into I-know-what-I'm-doing-so-don't-question-my-orders mode.

"What is it?" asked Thranduil.

The answer wasn't what he expected.

"I. Don't. Know."

* * *

[Oooooh! Yeah! Anyways...I'm going to try to update later today...:)]


	5. Chapter 5

[Two updates in three days! Not that bad...]

* * *

"Legolas? Care to fill us in on what's going on?" Brinduíl asked as he mounted his brown stallion and kicked it into a gallop after Legolas'.

"Later," he responded, only taking a quick glance behind him to see if the others were following.

Seconds later a high pitched yip pierced the air. Wargs. Just wonderful. They were still a long way out, but Legolas really wasn't kidding that they had to get out of there.

They raced through the forest until they came to a small clearing. They needed to regroup and let the horses rest. Legolas and Brinduíl dismounted and a few seconds later Kelsil and Thranduil rode into the clearing. They left their horses with the other two and went to join Brinduíl and Legolas.

"Now what?" Kelsil asked.

"We go away from the wargs." Brinduíl remarked.

"No, we were going to walk up to them and ask them to eat us," Legolas remarked, his voice dripping with more than a little sarcasm.

"They haven't seen us yet, so we can just circle back to the trail and then head to Imladris from there."

"What if they find out trail? You shouldn't be riding." Brinduíl remarked.

"You've got a point," Thranduil mused. He reached out and flicked his shoulder. Brinduíl could barely stop himself from crying out in pain.

This earned him several concerned and incredulous looks.

"Says you," Thranduil muttered.

"There is a cave about a mile from here if I remember correctly." remarmed Kelsil, "It will be dark in another hour, we can't risk staying in the open or riding through the night."

"Lead the way, Kel!" Legolas insisted with an extravagant gesture. "We shouldn't have stayed here for so long," he added as an afterthought.

* * *

Legolas slid off his horse with a groan.

"Why does it have to be so far away?" he whined, sinking to the ground.

"It's TEN feet, Legolas," Thranduil remarked, rolling his eyes.

"Should we tie the horses?" Brinduíl asked, holding a small coil of rope in his hand.

That could prove crucial if they were attacked. Either way could turn out bad. If they were tethered to a tree, it would leave them defenseless, but if they left them loose, they could easily wander away or bolt.

"We...leave them."

Brinduíl let go of his horses mane and gave him a dismissive pat. They would be fine. He hoped.

Legolas slowly picked himself off the ground and staggered to the cave. The leaned against the wall and sank down to the ground. He was exhausted. For that matter, they all were.

The other filed in, slinging their packs to the ground and practically crashing to the ground in hope of getting at least some sleep.

As soon as the others began to find sleep (which wasn't long), Brinduíl's voice brought them back to the presence, "Do we have any athelas?"

Legolas sighed. "No."

Silence.

"Does. Any grow. Near here?" asked Brinduíl, trying to suppress his emotions.

All of them had sustained wounds from the battle, and the herb might prove essential in getting them all to Imladris with out dying of bloodloss or infection. Or poison. Although they were fortunate enough to only be on the receiving end of only one poisoned arrow, it was still a poisoned arrow, and even though the poison was a simple one, it could easily prove fatal for the Elven King. Then there was the rusty swords, scimitars, and chunks of shrapnel that the orcs claimed were weapons.

He already knew the answer, but couldn't bring himself to admit it.

"No. There is none."

Brinduíl closed his eyes in defeat. Here was just no way that a day that started off the best in weeks, even months maybe, could end up like this. There was no way. Unless...no. Before he could complete the thought, his eyes drifted shut and he fell into an exhausted sleep.

* * *

[Ooh, some certain somebodys are worse off then they're letting on! Hmm, wonder if that's a good idea.

But...I'm sorry about he short chapter...again. I was on a roll, then I got like this ginormous writers block in the middle of the chapter. No seriously, it took like two days to figure out a solution to this thing...meh. I'm done. Hopefully the next chapter will be longer.]


	6. Chapter 6

[Sorry I'm late with my update-at least it's long!]

* * *

Legolas woke with a start. He tried to push himself up into a sitting position, but he crashed back onto the ground when his right arm came into contact with the hard stone floor. As soon as his head stopped spinning, he used his left arm to push himself up against the wall.

They were in a cave. That much was sure. They had been traveling to-Imladris? Yes, that was right. Now Brinduíl, Thranduil, and Kelsil were lying on the floor of a cave. With their eyes closed. Yes. And yes. Overall, their situation didn't look good.

Legolas waited until he was sure that he could stand up without becoming dizzy or nauseous to pick himself up off the ground. After he was sure that his legs could support him, he took his hand off of the wall. He had to see to waking the others, but first he had to make sure his arm wouldn't pose much of a problem.

Legolas pushed of up his sleeve, wincing when he pulled some of the fabric out of the wound. What he saw didn't surprise him. A deep gash ran from his lower bicep to a couple inches above his wrist. It was red and puffy, no doubt infected.

There was nothing he could do, so he pulled his sleeve back down, careful to avoid touching his arm. As a last precaution, he undid two buttons on his tunic and rested his wrist in his shirt.

Legolas surveyed the room. Brinduíl was laying on his side using his pack as a pillow. His father was reclining against the wall of the cave and Kelsil was sprawled all over the place, seemingly taking up as much room as possible.

He started to walk towards Brinduíl, but almost fell to the ground as he put his full weight on his injured leg. Legolas quickly regained his composure and glanced to see if his stumble had caused anyone to waken. He was in luck. No one had.

He limped over to where Brinduíl was and knelt be his sleeping form. Legolas searched the ground for stray weapons, and finding none that were close enough for Brinduíl to reach, grabbed his arm and shook him awake.

Brinduíl groaned and mumbled something incoherent. Legolas resumed shaking him, hoping Brinduíl didn't have his concealed knife.

Brinduíl finally opened his eyes and tried to pinpoint what had awakened him. After a few seconds, his eyes focused on the concerned face of Legolas.

"Wha-" he mumbled groggily. This wasn't like him and Legolas knew it. The other elf would generally go to the point of drawing arms on any elf that would happen to awake him in a strange place.

"We need to keep moving," seeing the look of confusion on the other elf's Face, Legolas quickly added, "We're almost to Imladris."

"Uh-huh," Brinduíl mumbled in the middle of a yawn, making his speech almost completely incomprehensible.

Satisfied that Brinduíl at least had some clue of where they were and what was going on, the rose from his position on the ground and walked over to his father.

At first glance, Thranduil would appear to be fine (except for the fact he looked like he just rolled around in dirt and mud for hours), but as Legolas got closer, he could make out a sheen of sweat across his brow. The poison was working.

Legolas knelt down next to his father and used a relatively clean part of his tunic to wipe the sweat away. He loathed to wake him, but they had to get to Imladris, and that required riding.

Thranduil stirred at the touch of Legolas and opened his eyes. They were glassy with the combination of the poison and the fever, but still coherent.

Before he was able to stop himself, he asked the question. It was immediately answered with "I'm fine".

"No. You're not 'fine'. If so, I'm a balrog," calmly replied Legolas.

"I should be asking you the same thing," Thranduil replied, obviously referring to his arm.

Legolas fixed his father with a glare that would have made Elrond proud. Thranduil's jaw sapped shut with a click. Satisfied, he got up and walked over to his sister.

He reached out to shake her awake, but pulled back his hand as he touched something sticky. It took him a minute to figure out what the substance was, but when he did he gasped. His hand was covered in blood. Not blackish orc blood, Elven blood. Kelsil's blood. It was still warm.

Legolas finally summoned enough courage to roll her over, and what he saw scared him. Her pale face lulled to the side as he undid the laces of her tunic, cursing the fact that the garment was black and therefore didn't show blood. He certainly felt plenty of it.

After a few moments of fumbling, he pulled out a small dagger and cut the few remaining inches of fabric away from her skin. There was a crude wrapping of bandages, apparently from the edge of a cloak wrapped around her midsection, that by now had mostly fallen off.

He untied the end and laid them aside, revealing a deep stab wound that could possibly be classified as a through and through. It had reopened sometime in the night and was still bleeding sluggishly. The edges around it were tinted black indicating either poison or severe infection.

Unknowing what was taking so long, Brinduíl had walked up behind him and now saw what he was staring at. He also caught the words that Legolas only ment for himself to hear.

"Eru Lluvatar, what have I done?" he had whispered.

* * *

[Was it worth it? Yes? No? Reviews?

I'm still sorry about the lateness of the chapter, but still, is it up? Yes. Also since I did this so late, I'm only going to update once next (or is it this) week.

Thanks for reading

-Vassi]


	7. Chapter 7

[Holy crap, Vassi is over a week late with the update! Yes I know, bad Vassi, very bad Vassi. I have some pretty good excuses though, between a volleyball tournament, a broken finger (which makes typing on iPad a pain in the-moving on now-), being assaulted by plot bunnies, none which happen to have any relation to this fic, and completely rewriting this chapter thrice. What now! Oh...you wanted to read the story, not Vassi's personal rants...]

* * *

"Eru Lluvatar, what have I done?"

The words hung ominously in the air until they were broken by a pained groan. Legolas was pulled out of his trance and looked around frantically before his eyes finally came to rest on the prone figure before him.

Kelsil's eyes fluttered open, instantly locking on the blonde elf above her. The concern shining unmasked in the ice blue eyes caused her to begin to regret not telling anyone of the extent of her injuries.

Wiping all traces of discomfort from her face, she began to sit up, half to prove to herself that she could, and half to reassure both her brother and Brinduíl, who was standing over Legolas' shoulder, that there were other things that their concern was better used on.

Saying that moving hurt would be an understatement. She fell what little distance that she rose back onto the floor as the muscles that had been ripped through were forced to move. Kelsil closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, trying to get the pain to go away.

After a few moments, it dulled to a bearable level and she forced her eyes open again.

"Are you alright?" Legolas asked, unable to help himself.

"Yes, just fine. Never been better!" came the reply, practically dripping with sarcasm.

Legolas sighed. What had he really expected? A detailed description of the condition of the most stubborn elf known to man?

"You're insane," he muttered, turning toward the entrance to the cave.

A few moments later, he stood up and noticing the late morning light streaming in from the cave entrance realized how long they had actually been there.

"We have to move," he suddenly announced. "It would be in our best interest to get to Imladris as fast as possible."

The other three nodded in agreement.

After 20 minutes of packing and shuffling around, the four were finally ready to depart. Brinduíl walked to the entrance of the cave with his small pack over his left shoulder to retrieve the horses.

A whistle died on his lips as he saw what was on the outside of the cave. There were tracks of wargs everywhere and if that wasn't obvious enough, there was a corpse of one lying not ten feet away from the cave entrance. They had been lucky. If the wargs would have found their scent, they would all have been slaughtered in their sleep. The Valar were certainly with them.

Brinduíl let out a low whistle, scanning the horizon for the horses. After a tense moment of nothing, four horses walked out of the trees and trotted over to one of their masters. Brinduíl embraced their stroke of luck seeing that none of them were harmed and went back to get the others.

* * *

Ten minutes later, the group was riding towards Imladris. Due to the extent of her injuries, Kelsil was forced to ride double and was mounted in front of her brother.

The group easily found the path that would lead them to Imladris, but instead of riding on it, they decided to skirt it incase of any wargs, orcs, trolls, or even balrogs we waiting for the or any other unfortunate person to come riding through. They kicked their horses into a gallop, the trees lifting their branches in an effort to make the trip easier.

Although both the trees and the horse were both trying to make the ride as smooth as possible and her wound being rebandaged, after a few minutes the pain caused by the jostling became too great and her body went limp in her brothers arms.

Despite this and the others already being considerably weakened by their injuries, they made good time as they rode and had reached the outskirts of the Imladris controlled territory by nightfall. Even though they wanted to continue riding for as long as possible, they had to stop to rest their mounts. They waited only until the horses were rested enough to continue their desperate journey to the Last Homely House, hoping they could make it in time.

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[Yet again I apologize and I'm not sure when I'll get the next chapter out if life continues as is...but anyways...its chapter was really hard to write and I am not very happy with it.]


	8. Chapter 8

Err... What was that? Like two weeks? *winces* Sorry guys.

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The four elves raced towards Imladris at near record speed. Soon they were going to reach the Bruinen and that gave them hope that they could shake their horde of pursuers. The orcs had found them.

The short stop that had given them time to rest their horses, also allowed a group of mounted orcs stumble on their trail, which they no longer had reason to hide.

Even though they had a good head start, the wargs that the orcs were riding were catching up to them. The Elven horses generally were much faster and could run longer than even the wargs on steroids, but running for hours and traveling for weeks before that had not led to the best conditions and the wargs were not having too much trouble catching up to them.

All that could be heard in the forest were the chomp of horse hooves on the path and the faint whispers of the elves urging their horses onwards and the occasional bark of the wargs behind them.

Soon, the River Bruinen came into view. The wargs also chose this moment to put on a burst of speed, for they knew their prizes would be lost should they cross over the mighty river.

All together there were seven wargs with just as many orcs riding them and only four elves, none of which were in the optimal condition for fighting. They weren't going to make it to the river in time and the wargs knew it. One of the orcs pulled out a bow and fired towards the group. The arrow whizzed past Brinduíl's ear and imbedded itself in a tree a few feet beyond.

Yes, the orcs knew that they could-and would-win this battle.

It was quickly becoming apparent that if they did not do something to distract the wargs, they all would be caught before they reached the safety of the ford. _Or maybe someone, _thought Brinduíl.

Brinduíl nudged his horse forwards alongside Thranduil. He knew this was a crazy idea, one he would probably lose his life for, but he had to do it.

"Ride to the ford, I'll cover you!"

"No. I wo-"

But Brinduíl had already left.

Brinduíl stopped his horse and whirled around, dismounting and drawing his bow in one fluid motion. He would fight and die for the family he vowed to protect. He held his head high daring the orcs to attack him.

The orcs snarled, knowing he would be an easy kill no matter how brave he looked, and came changing at him.

Brinduil let loosed his arrow, already drawing another as he watched it impact squarely into one of the rider's chests. With another arrow, fell another orc. As the orc fell, the warg was startled to have his rider suddenly shift his weight and stumbled when he fell. Brinduíl took advantage of this and let loose his third arrow and it sailed smoothly into the warg's eye.

He managed to take out one more orc before they were on him. He discarded his bow and drew his sword and hoped that he could last long enough for he others to make it across the ford.

The first warg was upon him. He sidestepped the first attack, managing to cut a long gash through the warg's side, angering it greatly. The warg whirled and came charging back at him with fury in its eyes. Brinduíl buried his sword in the creature's neck, killing it instantly. He ripped his sword out and the warg fell over dead, crushing the orc rider that fell below it. Brinduil turned to see the next attackers coming towards him. He fended off their attacks but was almost immediately surrounded by then remaining five wargs.

Brinduíl knew this really wasn't good, but if he was going down, he would take as many enemys as he could down with him. A warg and two goblins later Brinduíl sank to the ground from a mixture of exhaustion, pain, and blood loss. The last thing he heard was the screech of one of the orcs and then horse hooves? That didn't make sense. He barely had time to finish the thought before he fell into unconsciousness.

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[Heh heh. *smiles.* What do ya think?]


	9. BASE Part 1

[Aww Vassi updated...two weeks late. -_-]

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He was lying in something soft. And warm. Make that very soft. That didn't make much sense, judging that his last memories were of fighting orcs on Fords of the Bruinen.

He thought it over, trying to make some sense of what was happening. After he had been hit with a s-horses. That was it. He had heard horses. That made sense. After all, they were in Rivendell's borders.

He heard footsteps. Brinduíl lay still, having learned from personal experience that it was best to pretend to be asleep, unconscious, or dead- any worked- when you were in an unfamiliar location.

The footsteps stopped. Brinduíl strained his ears, trying to distinguish any sounds that could give him any information as to where he was. After a few minutes of silence, there was a voice.

"I know you're awake."

Make that a very annoyed voice, no doubt belonging to a very annoyed elf. _So I AM in Imladris_.

Not wanting to make the situation any worse, he forced his eyes open, but snapped them closed again as the bright sunlight assaulted them. What he saw scared him. Before him stood an *very* irritated and *very* tired looking Lord Elrond. That was never good. _Maybe orcs *would* be better_.

He forced his eyes open again, this time being prepared for the mid-morning light. A quick survey of his surroundings revealed that he was lying in a bed in the middle of a white room. Further investigation revealed the irate elf lord was gazing disapprovingly at him, a window overlooking one if the hundreds of waterfalls in the city, and his old friend, Glorfindel, sleeping in a chair in the corner.

Well, not entirely. Glorfindel's legs were draped over one of the armrests and his upper body was hanging over the seat part, with his head resting on the floor. Brinduíl had no clue how he could sleep like that, and was about to ask Elrond, but the Elf Lord just shook his head.

Even after two millennia, he still had no clue how he could sleep like that, but after killing a fire deamon *while* falling off a cliff, you probably could do almost anything.

Brinduíl looked back at Elrond, who still was looking a long way from 'happy'. He wondered what he had ever done to piss off the elf lord that much, and squirmed under the intense gaze. Or tried to anyways.

His muscles refused to cooperate and those that did were sore and sent waves of pain through his already abused body.

"In the name of Varda, what the hell did I do?" he asked, grimacing as he tried to figur out exactly what had happened.

Elrond exhaled a breath that he didn't even know he was holding. "Long or short version?"

"Short." He was never one for listening to long stories and actually paying attention to the whole thing.

"From your appearance you looked like you lost a fight with wargs, orcs and to to pit off,you fell out of a tree. Glorfindel," he motioned in the general direction of the somehow still sleeping elf, "found you by the ford and brought you back here."

At the sound of his name, Glorfindel jerked awake, upsetting his precarious balance on the chair and landed sprawled on his stomach on the floor.

The two other elves in the room stopped their conversation and turned towards the third occupant of the room who was still on the floor.

"What did I miss?" a bleary eyed Glorfindel asked with a yawn, picking himself off the floor.

The two other elves rolled their eyes and went back to their conversation, decided that the question was left unanswered.

Remembering why he had been fighting wargs in the first place, Brinduíl suddenly paled. "Where are the others?!" he demanded.

Elrond sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "They are safe."

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[Sorry about the two week late short chapter...]


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